


Seeing Stars

by BlossomsintheMist



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Barebacking, Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Bruises, Comeplay, Established Relationship, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Large Cock, Lingerie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Overstimulation, Panties, Panty Kink, Sex on Furniture, Sexual Content, Size Kink, Socks, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, light pain kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 03:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12246102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: “I want you to ride me,” Steve said, his hand closing around his dick. He slid it up slow, pushing his foreskin up before circling his palm over the head, pulling it back down so that Tony got a view of his sweet, leaking tip, the copious precome welling up and spilling over.Tony gives Steve a ride (and a few more things).





	Seeing Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this to be more in a different vein, but it turned out sort of like a prequel to the [fic I just posted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11771670/chapters/26538360), like an earlier time that Steve and Tony played around with coming multiple times and Tony bottoming. Still, I thought it was worth posting, all the same! You can envision this taking place sometime in Avengers/Iron Man/Captain America vol. 1 (though I sort of moved time forward a bit, gave them more modern technology)--Tony and Steve are together in a committed relationship, but haven't been exclusive that long, though they have been in a friends with benefits relationship for years. You'll notice that Tony is a little bit less certain and has a few more insecure/unhealthy thoughts about the relationship in this one, as well. As a warning, Tony also uses the word "stupid" about himself and his body, a few times.

“I want you to ride me,” Steve said, his hand closing around his dick. He slid it up slow, pushing his foreskin up before circling his palm over the head, pulling it back down so that Tony got a view of his sweet, leaking tip, the copious precome welling up and spilling over. Tony swallowed, the sight of Steve’s huge, hard, heavy cock, flushed and stiff with desire hitting him hard, right in the gut. It was a little intimidating, as always, to think that Steve wanted that to go inside him (that Tony wanted it, too), that it was _going_ to go inside him, but it also started a steady, eager throb of desire low in his stomach, in his groin, his own dick, just imagining the weight, the stretch, the pressure as it spread him wide around it, how deep it could go.

“Of course you do,” he said with a smile as he forced his mind back in the game, bringing his hands up to finish unbuttoning his shirt. Spacing out on Steve like that wasn’t going to work, not like this; he needed to be alert, give Steve what he wanted. “It’s your favorite, isn’t it, _mon ange_?”

Steve blushed, a little, turning pink in that sweet way that never failed to make something flutter embarrassingly and turn over in Tony’s stomach. “Yeah, maybe it is,” he said, a little shy. “When it comes to positions for . . . well, you know.”

“Your dick, my ass?” Tony murmured, keeping it a soft, husky purr, just to see Steve turn even more adorably red. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it over the nearby arm of the sofa Steve was sitting on in Tony's suite, standing before him now in just his soft black silk briefs and his black socks. And the plug tucked up heavy and persistent, wide in his hole, couldn’t forget that. He hadn’t been able to, all day.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “That.” He was smiling a little, still stroking his own cock almost absently and rocking his hips a little with it, arching himself up into it then leaning back like he wasn’t even aware of it.

“I don’t know, big boy,” Tony said, teasing, drawing his own hands down over his chest, thumbing at his own nipples because it made Steve drag in a sharp, heavy, lustful breath, bite down on his bottom lip. “Makes me think you just like me to do all the work.”

“Not because of that,” Steve said, smiling a little more. “I can lift you up, help you out. If you’re tired. I don’t mind.”

“Hey, now, cupcake,” Tony drawled, pinching his nipples so he could see Steve’s pupils dilate, his breaths deepen, the way he chewed on his bottom lip, “I didn't say that. I can service you but good, just watch me.” He slid his hands down his stomach, let his fingers slip under the silken waistband of his briefs and play along his hips. “Just trying to figure out what it is that trips your trigger when it comes to this, this and your other favorite. Your cock in my mouth, isn’t it? Maybe you just like the penetration, huh? Filling me up. Feeling me, seeing me, filled up with you.”

“Tony,” Steve breathed, eyes fixed on his hands where they edged the waist of his panties down slowly. Tony raised an eyebrow at him, sliding his hands down over the front of them, cupping his hardening cock through the soft, clinging black silk, framing it for Steve’s eyes where it pushed out against the fabric. “Your mouth is . . . it’s just . . . well, anyone who’s ever had your mouth on them would . . . would have that as their new favorite thing to, to do, no questions asked. Your mouth is so incredible.”

“Aww, sugar,” Tony said, fluttering his eyelashes at Steve to help camouflage the fact that he really did feel warm and flushed, his chest full and tender, at that, that he was so overwhelmingly pleased that Steve was that satisfied with his mouth, “that’s so sweet. I do my best.” He let his hand close over his cock, cupping his balls and shaft, then rubbed himself through the silk, squeezing and letting his eyes go half-lidded, letting his hips push up into it, the way the fabric felt damp and smooth against his hot need, the way it felt when he rubbed his thumb against the hot tip, pushing it against the slit through the silk. Steve sucked in his breath, and Tony saw through his eyelashes and his own pleasure as Steve’s hand tightened on his own cock and more precome welled up and spilled over down his shaft, as he leaned forward. That was flattering, too, made Tony feel warm and desirable, hot and heady with it, but he dropped his hand after a moment, not wanting to work himself up too much to the point where he came off just straddling Steve in the moment of his cock rubbing against his stomach. Steve wanted Tony to ride him. Tony could do that. He slid his hands down, let them tease along the insides of his own thighs, smoothing his palms up and down, biting the insides of his lips, his cheeks, to keep back his instinctive moans. Even simply touching himself felt so much more intense with Steve there, watching.

“I guess there’s something to that,” Steve said, after a moment of watching Tony touch himself.

“Hmm?” Tony murmured. He reached up, pinched the black silk right over his cock, tugged it away from the damp length where it stuck and clung, pulling the panties far enough away from his skin that he shivered as cooler air whispered along his cock.

“Not that I want you to do all the work,” Steve said, low, flushing even more hotly, “but I do like to see you—going after it. To see—know you really want it. It’s beautiful to watch, Tony.”

Steve did have a thing for watching him. One that made Tony feel self-conscious, overwhelmed, skin burning and chest tight beneath Steve’s scrutiny, hoping beyond hope that he looked okay, rather than sex-stupid or hideous. Tony took a deep breath, blew it out, and slid one hand under his panties, let it close around his cock and stroke lightly. It felt good, the pleasure along his aching, tingling shaft, made him clench down around the plug inside him and suck in his breath as he felt all the more aware of its wide, heavy girth, the stretch and spread of it inside his hole, but better than that was the way Steve swallowed, licked at his lips, bit the bottom one again and groaned, his face going red.

“Always aim to please,” Tony murmured, and then finally reached for the top of his panties and pulled them down, letting his cock spring free, fully exposed to the cooler air of the room, which made him shiver and suck in his breath despite himself, stepping out of them as they fell to the floor, past his socks.

“I know,” Steve said, sounding breathless. “You’re beautiful, you’re so good, Tony.” Tony moved to tug off his socks, but Steve said, quickly, “No,” and he stilled, looked up at him questioningly. “No,” Steve said again. “Leave ‘em on and get over here and ride me, mister.”

“So impatient,” Tony murmured, scooping his panties up from the floor despite the way it made the plug shift and tug at his insides and tossing them on top of his shirt before he made his way over to where Steve sat spread out on the sofa, cock eager and hard and huge, leaking against his stomach where he stroked it lightly. God, it was so gorgeous, so intimidating, whenever Tony looked at it. He almost got down on his knees to put his mouth on it, at least give it a lick, lave his mouth over the tip, taste all that precome shining on Steve’s tip, over his crown, on his tongue, but Steve had wanted Tony to ride him, so he held off.

“Who wouldn’t be impatient, looking at you?” Steve murmured. He leaned back against the cushions and reached out as Tony came close, and Tony shivered as Steve’s hands landed warm on his hips, stroked softly over his skin. He smiled at him a little, teased his hand down over his own cock again, teasing his fingers around the head, rolling his palm against it before he took hold of himself, pumped up and down, once, twice, then slid his hand down, under his cock, cupped and squeezed at his balls, making himself suck in a breath at the sudden pleasure, tilt his head back instinctively. He moved his hand down, lower, stroking against his perineum until Steve’s fingers tightened, dug in on his hips. At that, Tony allowed himself a smile of satisfaction, that Steve had lost that little bit of control over himself just at watching Tony’s fingers push in against the skin behind his balls, combined with the pleasure of it, the way it made Tony’s cock just that little bit harder, made a tiny bit of precome well at the tip.

He slid his fingers back further, let them linger at the rim of his hole where it felt stretched tight around the heavy silicone girth of the plug wide inside him, before he slid them back, let them rock the plug in his hole. It made him groan, more from the overwhelming pressure and stretch than anything else, and Steve was—was bigger than this, he would stretch him out so much wider, had this morning before he’d slid the plug inside, leaving Tony wide and aching and having to tense up, clench down, to keep himself from leaking Steve’s come out around the widest part of the plug where it rested just within him.

“How did that feel?” Steve asked, his voice coming out hoarse, husky and heavy, low. “That plug?” His hands stroked gently down over Tony’s hips, his thighs. “Wasn’t too much, was it?” 

“No, big guy,” Tony mumbled, still focused on the feeling of the stretch, the low-level pleasure just of the weight and heaviness as he rocked it inside himself with his fingers. “Not too much at all. So . . . big, though,” he swallowed, couldn’t help it. “Felt it in there all day—c-couldn’t ignore it. Made me think of you. F-feeling the wet spot in my panties from how needy my poor cock was, all, all leaking for you, just—rubbing against the tip of my cock. Kept my panties wet all day, Steve. Kept being afraid the wet spot would show through, and everyone would know I was—was wearing it for you . . . so desperate, so needy for you I had to keep something inside me all day . . . .” Sure, Tony had spent most of the day at home, here in the mansion, in his lab, doing some adjustments on equipment for the Avengers and running a diagnostic on the computer system after Steve had bent him over in the shower after their early morning sparring match, come inside him and slid the plug into him after just like they’d talked about the night before, but every time Tony had had to go upstairs, for any reason, he’d thought about it, double-checked his slacks, afraid he’d shown through, feeling the dampness around his cock, hyper-aware of it during the Skype conferences he’d had with Stark R&D during the afternoon and hoping he hadn’t let on, feeling sweat prickle under his arms and at the back of his neck under his suit jacket, against the waistband of his slacks. He’d thought it’d be fine, he’d be able to handle it—he’d met with the board with a butt plug in once, after all, a long time ago, in his stupid, misspent youth—but it had been much more stressful than he’d envisioned.

“God, Tony,” Steve whispered, sounding strangled, choked. His hands slid around to the back of Tony’s thighs, squeezed at his ass, kneading at big handfuls of the firm muscle until Tony was gasping, groaning at how it jostled the plug inside of him. “Can I—can I touch it?”

“Of course, stud,” Tony moaned, “of course, you put it in there, it’s yours, all—all yours, do what you want.”

“You’re so good, so good to me, thank you,” Steve panted. A moment later his big hand was sliding down between Tony’s cheeks. He pressed his palm flat over the wide, aching stretch of Tony’s hole, warm and teasing as he rolled his hand up against it, and oh, that just wasn’t fair. Tony choked on his own breath just at the feeling of someone other than him pushing at the plug inside him. He leaned forward, slid his arms around Steve’s shoulders and gripped his own elbows, letting himself settle down onto his knees on either side of Steve’s legs on the sofa, letting himself lean on him, his big warm solid strength, the radiant smooth heat of his skin, because he needed the support as Steve teased at the plug, making Tony roll his hips helplessly in response.

Steve’s fingers, big and callused and soft on his skin, were there a moment later, tracing around the stretched rim of Tony’s hole. Tony shivered, pressed his mouth, open and wet, against Steve’s temple as he gasped for breath. It was just such a vivid, overwhelming sensation, feeling Steve touch him there after so long.

“I thought about you all day, too,” Steve murmured. “Had to rub one out in the bathroom in the middle of the day, wondering how it was for you. God. You’re stretched so wide.”

“Gonna be wider once you push back inside of me,” Tony breathed, breathing going raspy at the thought. Steve’s fingers were an overwhelming tease on his stretched rim.

“Yeah,” Steve said, hoarse and rough. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” His thumb pushed on the flared base of the plug, rocking it inside Tony until Tony let out a desperate breath that was almost a sob. “It’s going to be so good, feeling you all open inside. Stretching you out just that little bit more when I push in—did you, did you miss me, Tony?”

Tony moaned, almost whined. “Yeah,” he admitted, and it came out soft against Steve’s skin. “I—I thought about you all day, wanted you inside me instead of the plug. Wished you’d come down and bend me over my worktable, push inside, pound my ass until I couldn’t think, couldn’t see straight, I . . . .”

“You feel so good inside,” Steve almost moaned, hands slipping down and squeezing at the base of Tony’s thighs, where they met his ass. “Take this out and ride me, won’t you?”

“Your wish is, is my command, gorgeous,” Tony managed, stammering a little despite himself. He made himself take a deep, shaking breath, reaching back to slide his fingers around the base of the plug. His fingers brushed against Steve’s as he did, and they both shivered.

“Love seeing you like this,” Steve groaned, his words thick, almost slurring. “Getting into it like this. You really thought about that? Me—me bending you over, in your workshop?”

Tony moaned, just thinking about it, rolled his hips down on the plug, pushing it into himself, a few times, couldn’t help it, at the thought. “Fantasized about it all day,” he managed. “Seriously, babe, I could hardly focus on anything else. Never had so much trouble running a basic diagnostic in my life.”

“Tony, please,” Steve whimpered breathily, voice deep and scratchy like that had gone straight to his dick. The sound of it was so gorgeous Tony felt it throb in his own dick, even as he shifted to grab hold of the plug.

“You want inside of me that bad, huh?” he murmured against Steve’s cheek, and Steve nodded, his unfairly long eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks as his eyes slid closed and he moaned, wanton and wanting and unashamed, and Tony loved that, loved that sound. He would let Steve fuck him as many times as he wanted, just to hear that, to know Steve wanted him so badly, to know his body pleased Steve that much. “All right, honey, hold tight,” he whispered, letting his lips brush in slow, soft kisses along Steve’s jaw as he twisted himself for a better angle and started working the plug out of his hole.

It was strange to feel the pull, the pressure and drag on his inner walls, after so long just keeping it inside. Tony felt himself gasp a little bit, dug his teeth into the inside of his cheek and swallowed hard, but then it was sliding out of him, surprisingly easily after he stretched out wide around the thickest part. His hole felt empty with it gone, aching and loose, open. He tensed, clenched up, made sure to keep himself tight to keep the come Steve had left inside him that morning from leaking out. He hesitated a moment, then, like that, not sure what to do with the still wet, messy plug, then just dropped it onto one of the sofa pillows, figuring that would be easier to launder than the sofa itself, or the carpet. Then he braced himself on the back of the couch, arms over Steve’s shoulders, and rubbed his open hole down against Steve’s hot, heavy cock. He moaned at the feeling, surprising himself, the easy friction as he maneuvered himself to get it to slide between his thighs, velvet hot and already wet, push up against his balls, his perineum, between his cheeks and against his slickened, wet hole. It felt so good to feel Steve there, thick and hot, that Tony realized his mouth was watering and almost flushed at that evidence of his own desperate eagerness. When had he started wanting Steve inside him so damn badly that he started salivating for it?

It didn’t matter; what really mattered was that Steve wanted this, wanted to be inside Tony, wanted Tony riding him, and Tony wanted to give that to him, wanted it so bad he could taste it. It felt so good just to feel Steve rubbing against him, that steely length already so wet and slick as it pushed along his balls, his perineum, teased against his hole, but Tony didn’t let himself indulge in it too long. Instead, he reached back to grip Steve, angle him and guide him in. He had to grip hard at the back of the sofa with his other hand, raising himself up on his knees and twisting a bit as he tried to find a good angle to sink down on Steve properly, but his hole felt too tight, even open as it was, wouldn’t give, even with the copious precome Steve was leaking. His cockhead brushed against Tony’s hole like a wet kiss to Tony’s hole, smearing precome all around his rim, but refused to slip inside.

Steve was groaning deep and hoarse, needy, in the back of his throat, his fists flexing, clenching against the sofa cushions, his hips working, twitching, pressing up, as Tony touched him, as his cock slid between his thighs. Tony squeezed them a little bit against Steve’s cock, just as a tease, feeling it pulse against his skin, the drip of precome down between his legs, wet against the sensitive skin there on his inner thighs. “You’re so wet, babe,” he said, and it came out scratchy and rough, low.

Steve just moaned, his head tipping back against the sofa, his hands clutching at Tony’s hips, first digging in deep, then fluttering uncertainly over Tony’s skin before they clenched down on him again. Tony took pity on him, loosened his thighs and twisted up to get a better angle, his knees sinking into the cushions as he reached for the lube they’d left out on the sofa, deciding he’d been way too ambitious to try it without. He smeared it wet all over his hand, then reached down and slicked it over Steve’s cock, which leapt and jerked in his hand as Steve moaned helplessly and thrust up against Tony’s palm, hot and heavy and shuddering under Tony’s fingers. 

Steve was so fucking big, his dick so fucking long and so damn wide, that it was hard to get leverage even bracing himself against the couch like he was, even with Tony’s loose, open hole, especially since Tony was trying to clench up, keep himself tense and tight inside so that he didn’t drip Steve’s come from earlier out all over the sofa or Steve’s thighs. It was tricky to twist around, push the lube up into his own hole, pushing two wet fingers in where he was open and soft, though not too far. Didn’t want that come to leak out, after all. The feeling made him groan, bite down on his bottom lip, his eyes fluttering, despite himself. Finally, he got Steve positioned under him and sank down, and the way Steve’s dick felt, pushing past the loosened clench of Tony’s hole, opening Tony wide no matter how he tried to keep himself tight, made Tony moan, jerk up and gasp, almost jerk away entirely from the push of Steve into him before he stopped himself, made himself push back down into it. The stretch was so much, so fast, even though he was already open from the plug, Steve’s wide, blunt head spreading him out wide, until his muscles burned, trembled. Tony gasped for breath, felt his chest heaving, and had to bring his other hand up, brace both of them against the back of the sofa. He could feel himself shuddering. “Oh, God,” he heard himself moan as if from a long way away. “Christ, Steve. Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” Steve’s voice was a deep, stuttering groan, as if it had been pulled out from deep in his chest. His hands slid up along Tony’s thighs, squeezed at Tony’s ass and curved to cup his ass cheeks, supporting him just enough that Tony could catch his balance, finally, against the back of the sofa. Steve’s cock was—it was an overwhelming sort of force, even when Steve was staying so perfectly, thoughtfully still inside him.

“A-ah,” was all Tony managed to get out, “mm,” but he dragged his head over, down, until he could press his mouth against Steve’s cheekbone, wet and open but soft as he could make it, trail kisses down over his cheek, against his nose, down to his jaw, over to his mouth. Steve opened his mouth, gave a soft, punched-out groan as he leaned up into it, and the kiss was soft and wet and warm and slick, breathless as their mouths dragged against each other. “’m okay,” Tony finally managed to mumble, breathless and low and almost embarrassingly slurred against Steve’s open mouth, his bottom lip dragging against Steve’s wet, spit-slick mouth. Steve pushed his chest up against Tony’s, pushing his head up, so that their mouths slid together again, unevenly, not quite matching up, Steve’s upper lip between both of Tony’s, Steve panting against his skin. 

“You, you, you’re sure?” he slurred out. His chest was heaving, hands tightening on Tony’s ass as he whimpered, moaned, hoarse and harsh against Tony’s lips. His hands slid down along the backs of Tony’s thighs, dug in, massaging gently, before they slid back up to knead deep into Tony’s ass. That sent a sudden jolting arc of intense sensation through him, and Tony groaned against Steve’s mouth, jerked in Steve’s hands, then had to push himself down over Steve to keep him from sliding out of his hole, pushing him in farther, deeper, than he’d been before. Steve just felt so huge, so overwhelming, despite the slickness of the extra lube and Steve’s own abundant precome slicking the way, helping him slide in, that Tony moaned, helpless and open-mouthed and overwhelmed against Steve’s lips. He could feel the burn of it, in his rim, inside his hole, in his thighs, in his hips. He couldn’t begin to imagine what it would feel like without the lube, if Steve didn’t leak so much. It was like Steve’s body knew he was so, so big, so much more than Tony could deal with, and produced all that extra slippery precome to make it easier on Tony’s stupid, tight little ass.

Steve kept massaging his ass cheeks, squeezing them, kneading with his big hands until Tony was shivering under him, trembling, shuddering back and forth, not quite writhing over him, but close, careful to keep his pelvis angled down so that whenever Steve’s length slid inside him it was further in, not out. He could feel his own harsh breathing in his chest as if from a long way away, almost like it belonged to someone else. Steve moaned, sweet and low and soft and long, leaned up and mouthed wetly at Tony’s bottom lip, got his lips around it and sucked. Tony found himself sinking his hands into Steve’s short hair (too short, Tony wished so much he would wear it longer), cradling the base of his skull, stroking as he rocked himself back and forth, hole burning, aching, stretching slowly around Steve’s wide, demanding girth, as Tony leaned down breathlessly into the kiss. The kiss, the soft, eager, adoring way Steve panted against his mouth and sucked on his lips and kissed him so sweetly with his soft, soft, wet, warm tongue and giving lips (chapped on the surface but not so badly they weren’t petal-soft beneath that, already so hot and swollen and wet with kisses under Tony’s mouth), distracted from the burning ache, made it easier to take the stretch. Before Tony even realized, he had Steve halfway into him, thighs shaking and burning a little and his stomach flexing helplessly as he gasped for breath, but still.

Tony was a little amazed by that, and really damn pleased, and he rocked himself on Steve’s huge length, back and forth, feeling the slight shift of him, the hot, hot, velvety steel of Steve so much different from the plug. Steve was wider and hotter and softer and more vivid, more real, so heavy and thick inside of him that Tony felt pried open, pushed out of shape, but only in a good way. (God, Steve was big, so big, and so long; it was like he went on forever.) Steve was apparently beyond speech, mouth open and groaning and wet, head tilted back, pushed back against the sofa cushions, eyes tight closed and his fingertips pressing down into Tony’s skin with such unyielding, penetrating force that Tony could almost feel the bruises they left in their wake, like Steve’s fingerprints would be left on his bones. Tony moaned, mouth feeling wet himself, let his hands slide up, frame Steve’s face, as he hunched over him, gasping. He felt sweaty, very hot. Steve’s heat throbbed, pulsed, burned inside him. Tony’s cock had gone more than a little soft against Steve now, probably from the overwhelming stretch of working Steve into him like that, but that was all right; it would come back. Probably. Steve would help him out if he had trouble coaxing his erection back; Tony had faith.

Steve moaned, turned his head to the side, kissed softly, wetly, at the base of Tony’s palm, and Tony let out a low, trembling breath as warm, unsteady emotion swept through him at the gesture. Tony found himself running the backs of his fingers along Steve’s cheekbone in a caress, before he even thought. Steve was always—he was so _appreciative_ , that was the thing, even when Tony’s body was too tight to let him in, tight and uncooperative and hell, maybe even painful when it squeezed down too tight on Steve’s big cock. “Does—does that feel good,” he heard himself gasp out in a low groan that skipped like bad audio feedback.

Steve gave a low, gasping, stuttery moan that came out as a whimper, sweet and low-pitched enough that Tony could feel it vibrate through him where their chests were pressed together. “Tony,” he said, and he was so flushed, all the way down, over his chest past his nipples, down over his thighs. His hands fell onto Tony’s thighs, worked, kneaded the muscle there. “Please. Please.”

Riding Steve was always overwhelming, but watching what it did to Steve was, too, in an entirely different way, when he gave himself up to it like this. It was a heady, powerful feeling. Tony slid his hands down over Steve’s neck, onto his shoulders, took hold of them there and leaned down to bite breathless kisses along Steve’s jaw, leaving marks that wouldn’t stay. “You really needed it today, didn’t you stud?” he mumbled, and it came out rough and scratchy and weirdly, gruffly tender. He made his chest muscles flex and lifted himself up, straightening his spine, rocking himself backward onto Steve’s cock. Steve would probably come back from it a little eventually; he usually did, but it made Tony feel warm, incredible, to see just how much Steve enjoyed being inside him like this. He only ever wanted to make Steve feel good.

To that end, he started rocking himself over Steve, rolling his hips to work him deeper inside, pulling himself up and pushing himself down, still gasping at the massive stretch and ache and _heat_ of Steve inside him, until he felt himself begin to loosen, his body giving up its tight clasp down on Steve’s length, let him slide along in Tony’s body a little more easily. He already felt—wet, wet and sloppy from lube and the come he’d kept inside him all day, and he wondered if Steve could feel it, feel himself in there, the sloppy wetness in Tony’s desperately overstretched hole. The air was cool against the lube he’d smeared around his rim as he spread around Steve, rocking himself down so that Steve’s thick base spread him even wider, and he groaned at the sensation, the fullness. It wasn’t exactly pleasure, not yet, but it still felt good, somehow, having Steve inside him, spreading him out wide around Steve’s pulsing heat, filling up some part of him that felt like it had been aching for Steve all day.

“F-feel yourself in there, hot stuff?” he managed to gasp out. “Your come’s still, still in there from this morning, I’m all wet and, and full of you.” He knew come was Steve’s _thing_ , and seeing Tony used and dripping with it never failed to turn Steve on; he’d barely been able to tear himself away long enough to slip in the plug that morning, fingering Tony deep with Steve’s come still hot and wet inside him until he’d been squirming self-consciously, hiding his face in his arms feeling it slip out of him and ooze down his thighs. Steve had scooped it up, pushed it back into him before he pushed in the plug, and Tony had felt himself trembling, his face hot and his chest tight with self-conscious embarrassment, but it wasn’t a _bad_ embarrassment. That was the strange part. It was just overwhelming, feeling so aware of Steve looking at him, touching him, inside him, what he’d done to and with his body.

Sure enough, Steve groaned deep in his chest at Tony’s words, mouth hanging open and lashes fluttering over eyes that looked blown, glazed, dilated, and his hips bucked, pushing him even deeper into Tony’s spread hole until Tony gasped, struggling to swallow his own saliva, had to spread his legs wide and brace himself on Steve’s chest and shoulder to balance himself.

Steve’s thick, hot length was definitely rubbing along Tony’s prostate now, sending pleasure shooting straight to his cock, which was nice, made Tony want to rub himself down on Steve, rock himself down hard despite the discomfort. Instead, though, he just leaned forward, pressed his own open mouth to Steve’s cheek, his forehead against Steve’s, just under his hairline. There was sweat coming there, dotted just under Steve’s hairline, and Tony tilted his chin up, licked it away, tasting the salty tang of it on his tongue. He felt a swell of pride that Steve was so overwhelmed at the feel of him that he was already sweating.

Steve’s hands dug in even tighter, palms curving, digging in tight, against Tony’s ass, his hips, clenching so tight Tony wondered if his bones were creaking with the pressure and groaned pleasurably at the tight, painful ache of it, making himself push back into that touch rather than fighting it. Part of him wanted to arch up to try to get away, but he didn’t let himself. No, this was good pain; he wanted it (though part of him, in the back of his mind, wondered if Steve could seriously break him, break his hips, just by squeezing as hard as he could—Steve wouldn’t, he knew, he was too careful for that, even when he was lost in it, but if he _could_ , and the thought sent a frisson of danger through him that only sharpened that edge of pleasure under the ache in his hips, in his ass, made him shiver tightly under Steve’s hands, around his cock). “Tell me,” he groaned against Steve’s skin, curling his hand against his neck and rubbing the heel of his hand there. “Can you feel yourself in there? Am I—am I all wet with you, Steve?”

“Yes,” Steve husked out, all hoarse and rough and low, and his hips came up, bucked up into Tony, pushing Steve’s cock just that little bit more into him until Tony moaned, arched over him, felt his stomach muscles flexing helplessly. “You’re so wet, oh, Tony, God, I can feel it, you’re all slick in there, wet, God, you’re so slick and warm, I—”

“Sloppy wet,” Tony murmured against Steve’s jaw, “just for you, all wet with your come. I kept it in there for you all day, just waiting for you, keeping me wet.” He dragged in a breath. “You want to fuck me hard, big boy?” 

“Tony,” Steve moaned, mouth open, eyes blown and dark with lust, half-open, and he jerked up into Tony again, “you feel so good, you’re so—tight—”

“Oh, I know, trust me,” Tony said, grinning ruefully as another pleasure-tinged throb of burning sensation shot through him at Steve’s dick pushing in, dragging out, just slightly. He rocked his hips, curled his arms around Steve’s neck and concentrated on the movement, on keeping his hips moving, his thighs pushing him up and down. “You could change that, though, couldn’t you, studmuffin? You could fuck me so hard.”

Steve blushed, his thumbs dragging slowly down Tony’s thighs, tracing over his skin. “I, uh,” he said, and sucked on his bottom lip.

“But you’re not going to,” Tony mumbled against his temple. “Are you? Because—because I’m calling the shots right now, I set the pace. Right, sport?”

“Y-yeah,” Steve moaned, arching up into him, so that his warm, velvety chest rubbed against Tony’s. His hands loosened a little, slid up over Tony’s hips, his hipbones, gentler now. “That’s why, why I like it when you r-ride me,” he said. His lashes fluttered again, and he drew in a deep, heavy breath through his nose.

“Yeah?” Tony gasped, still working himself slowly over Steve, feeling himself loosening, if only slowly. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, staring up into his face like he was beautiful, worthy of—of being looked at like that, before he leaned up, nuzzled his face against Tony’s neck, trailing soft, wet, tingly kisses over the skin. “I like that. I like—I like having it at your pace.” His hand squeezed on Tony’s already bruised hips, encouraging. “Go on, Tony,” he mumbled. “You can do it.”

“You ask a lot,” Tony let him know. He sank his hands up into Steve’s hair, closed his fingers and held on, one hand cupping the back of his neck, let his own head tip back, his eyes close, as he started to move, felt his teeth sink into his bottom lip as Steve’s heavy length shifted inside him, dragging along his insides, feeling so—so bluntly huge, invading him like that, spreading him open so wide. “It’s,” he gasped, “it’s a workout, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Steve groaned. His thumbs were digging in, leaving what were probably going to be big, garish bruises just under Tony’s hipbones, aching throbbing points of blunt pain deep down in his muscles now. “But you keep yourself in pretty good shape, don’t you, Tony? C-come on, show me.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Tony told him, gasping, his chest feeling tight and full with overwhelming sensation, his breathlessness and the need for movement. “It’s on, Steve. You’ll see.” 

“I know I will,” Steve said, half simple, earnest faith, half complete satisfaction, like a cat who’d just goaded his partner into bringing him all the cream, because that’s exactly what he was, the smug bastard, using Tony’s need to prove himself physically against him like that. But Tony couldn’t resist that kind of challenge, not when it came to Steve. Steve’s hands slid down, gripped, squeezed into Tony’s thighs, digging in with the flaring, bruising ache Tony was used to there, too, and Tony moaned, bit his lip again, sucked his saliva back behind his lips, and started to move.

It was still difficult, at first, Steve so big and wide inside of him that Tony’s hips didn’t want to move, his hole clinging around Steve’s width and his hips, his muscles burning with the stretch inside and out. But he was plenty wet (Steve’s come, the lube, Steve leaking inside him), so Tony just kept rolling his hips, willing his muscles to loosen up, to let go of their tight, nervously taut clench around Steve. After a couple of jerking, bucking, uneven circles of his hips up and back, Tony felt something go a little bit looser inside of him, and this time when he sank down, he could feel Steve finally sink into him all the way, balls-deep, the soft curls of his pubic hair sweaty against Tony’s skin. Tony moaned, sucked on his bottom lip, and forced his eyes open to look down at Steve.

Steve was moaning steadily, breathless, head thrown back as his chest heaved, eyes almost all the way closed, like he hadn’t meant to close them, it had just happened in his overwhelmed pleasure. His breath was gasping and heavy, and there was sweat sliding down his neck. Tony moaned in pleasure, seeing it, how gone Steve looked. It was a heady feeling, a shot of warm, satisfying gratification, to see him like that, so lost in the pleasure Tony was giving him. It made something deep in Tony’s chest go soft and liquid and easy. That was all he wanted to do, please Steve, make him feel good, give him pleasure like that with his body, and it spurred him on, made him lift his hips up all the faster, roll them back down decisively, even as it sent shivering, overwhelming, too-much-on-the-edge-of-pain sensation careening through him like the feeling was ricocheting inside him at right angles, bouncing along his cock, around his hips, along his belly, making him feel heat, searing, flaring, in his chest. 

Steve’s hands loosened on his thighs, sliding up and down the skin there, and Tony shivered even more as he mumbled, “God, Tony, you . . . you’re so good, you feel so good.” His voice sounded thick, slurring, heavy, like he could barely get the words out, and the words themselves made Tony feel warm all through, like there was a soft banked ember in his stomach, glowing at Steve’s praise. He just wanted to make Steve feel like that, more and more. And more. (Until Steve was coming inside him, filling him up all over again, hot and wet, until he was wet and messy and dripping, dripping with Steve, trickling down out of him, down his thighs, Steve would like that, Steve liked seeing him like that.)

It was getting easier, to move, to slide Steve up and down inside him, and every push of Steve’s cock up inside him was making more and more pleasure jolt through Tony at the slow slide over his prostate. It was almost surprising when he slid down on Steve again, down to the root, and felt his own cock, hard and leaking from the tip, slap against his pelvis. He actually heard himself say, “Oh,” stupidly, and his hand slid down to close around it automatically. The pleasure of his own hard palm curving around his length made Tony whimper, groan, his head tipping back as he thrust up helplessly into it, and he felt saliva slip out over his lips as he panted, trickle down into his beard. 

“Tony, oh, ah,” Steve moaned, and Tony realized that that had sent a fluttering wave of tightness through his already tight ass, as he instinctively worked himself faster than before up and down over Steve so he could fuck himself into his own hand. Tony bit down on his bottom lip and started to stroke himself in earnest, feeling the pleasure well up inside him, keeping his eyes fixed on Steve, the wet slack part of his lips, the sex-dazed softness in his face, starry with pleasure, to help him along, the pleasure so much brighter and sweeter when he could see it in Steve’s face. Tony kept his hand moving, twisting over his cockhead, the tip of his cock, rubbing his thumb against his slit ever so often so that pleasure swept hot through his cock and into his hips, his groin, and he could feel his hips loosening, relaxing, his body opening and softening around Steve, as the pleasure in Steve’s face got caught up and built in Tony’s mind, in his chest, in his belly, with the pleasure from Steve dragging so thick and heavy and hot inside Tony, the pleasure from Tony’s hand around his own length.

He could move so much more easily then, and Tony did, determinedly taking advantage of it, snapping his hips up and down again on Steve’s length. It hurt, a little, made him feel tender and bruised inside and outside, but he was used to that when he rode Steve like this, even liked it. He’d feel it later, for sure, but Steve was always so sweet about massaging out the ache, slipping his hand between Tony’s legs as they lay together, after, and pushing in deep against Tony’s aching inner thighs, kneading his palms up over Tony’s sore hips, without any kind of lascivious attention to his cock or anything despite the intimate area. Just touching to make Tony feel good. Tony thought, a little bit guiltily, that maybe he drove himself a little harder than he would otherwise, knowing that Steve would be so gentle, so attentive, after, the soft, caring, solicitous way he would pay attention to Tony’s aches or bruises, maybe Tony pushed himself just a little bit too hard just to get that attention on him, and how wonderful it felt. But Steve didn’t seem to mind, or maybe he didn’t realize, but he didn’t seem to mind giving that to Tony anyway, so Tony let himself, let himself soak it up. 

Anyway, Steve had given him a challenge, and Tony was going to meet it if it was the last thing he did. He’d show Steve that he was in condition, that he could do this for—well, maybe not hours, maybe not as long as Steve could have done it, but more than long enough for Steve to come; he could give Steve the ride of his goddamn life. He let himself appreciate the easing slide of his passage over Steve’s cock for a while, but then started squeezing down on Steve as he lifted up, making sure he clenched down and squeezed on Steve’s cock, inner muscles tight and quivering around Steve’s length all the way as Tony slid himself up, let himself loosen and ease as he slid back down. He couldn’t loosen up on command, couldn’t make himself relax when he wanted to, no matter how badly he wanted it, but this was a form of muscle control he’d always been good at, and damn if he wasn’t going to milk it for all it was worth tonight, even if it made him ache and quiver with sensation at the heavy drag of Steve’s hot blunt width against the insides of his ass.

But the way it was affecting Steve was all he could wish for, mouth hanging open, eyes helplessly closed, as little huffing low breaths and punched-out breathy moans left his lips, the soft little noises he made that Tony loved so much, and his hips constantly moving up, rolling in a needy, open sort of show of want that struck Tony as somehow defenseless, how perfectly helplessly needy it was. Tony pushed his knees down, into the sofa cushions, and moved himself even faster, ignoring his own cock again now to brace both his hands on Steve’s shoulders, letting his own weight, his own pelvis and ass, push Steve further down into the sofa, so that he could really just lie back and let Tony work him, give him the ride he’d asked for.

It was slick now, though, easy, even as he pressed himself down on Steve inside, clenching up on every upward pull, and every time he slid back down he was shocked, left dizzy and reeling and gasping, by how instantly full of Steve he felt. He didn’t try to angle Steve inside, press him against his prostate or anything like that, just squeezed down on him and tried to give him that pressure, wanting him to just feel as good as possible being inside Tony. He made sure to give his hips that little circular twist and swing that always made Steve pulse inside him and clench his hands into fists, moan and swear under his breath, got into the rhythm of it and just _felt_ the way it affected Steve as a whole body shudder swept over him, as Steve throbbed inside him and his hands flailed out to clutch at Tony’s waist, then slid up, gripped at Tony’s shoulder, the other sliding into his hair and tugging. Tony let himself be pulled down, into Steve, their chests hot against each other, Steve’s warm and soft and radiating heat into him, let his hands slide back to brace himself against the back of the sofa again and let Steve pant open-mouthed against his lips, mouth too loose and slack with pleasure to really give him a kiss, but Tony could tell he wanted to. Tony responded, slid his tongue gently against Steve’s, breathless himself, kept his hips moving, his body twisting in that perfect way on each stroke, feeling the warm, humid mixture of their breathing as he rocked down against Steve’s mouth.

The movements rubbed his cock up against Steve’s hard, warm stomach, too, and that felt good, but Tony didn’t let himself focus on it too much, even as pleasure built in his balls, deep in his gut, his cockhead itching with the urge to slow his thrusts and just hitch himself up and down against Steve’s velvety-hard abs until he came all over him. Instead, Tony kept himself moving, making sure he slid up and back on Steve on every thrust, panting into the kiss with the effort, and eventually he knew Steve was getting close, because Steve slid a hand tight into Tony’s hair, gripped it at the roots with gentle, implacable force so that there was no way Tony could get away, and dragged him down against Steve’s mouth. Tony moaned, let himself soften and go liquid under the kiss, surge up into it, as Steve’s tongue tangled with his, then slid wet over his bottom lip, pushed into his mouth. The way Steve just pushed into him like that, like he was fucking Tony’s mouth, too, all hot heavy tongue and hot heavy cock, made Tony moan, arch up into him, rock himself down on Steve with even more desperate force, until every time sent jarring impact rocketing up through his hips, his ass, making it easy to squeeze tight around Steve inside.

God, Tony thought, Steve was still lying back, letting Tony move, slam himself down and rock himself up, but as his hand slid back down to Tony’s hip and his thumb dug in deep against the bone, against the bruises he’d already left, his other hand tight in Tony’s hair, holding his head immovable, Steve was so damn strong, and there was no denying he was at his mercy like this, ass spread and filled with cock, neck tilted back just a little, vulnerable, with Steve’s hand bracing it at the nape, strong and steady, and Steve’s tongue fucking into his mouth, Tony unable to even move his head. Willingly at his mercy, spearing himself open on Steve’s cock, fucking himself on him, giving Steve his mouth to suck and lick and fill with his tongue until saliva slid out around it into Tony’s beard, and Tony loved every second of it, loved giving Steve everything he could, every part of him, working himself as hard and lovingly as he could over Steve’s cock, for Steve’s pleasure. Steve’s hand knotted up into a fist at the back of Tony’s head, he moaned open-mouthed into Tony’s wet, panting mouth, and then his hips drove up hard into Tony once, twice, and he came, groaning, gasping little helpless breaths into Tony’s mouth, and his name, breathless and almost inaudible, against Tony’s own lips. 

Tony let himself slow down, rocked more deliberately, gently, over Steve’s cock as he came, and came, hot wet spurts that Tony imagined filling him up, getting all messy and sloppy and wet inside the way Steve liked. He could feel the wet, sloppy slide as it happened, hear the wet noises his body started to make as he slid Steve’s cock leisurely a few centimeters in and out of him. He felt himself flush, but then, Steve always filled him up, made him messy inside; he hadn’t been expecting anything else.

His breath was burning in his chest, he realized. He’d pushed himself harder than he’d thought he had. His cock throbbed, ached with a needy want, aching for a hand, some pressure, some friction from anywhere. His hips and thighs ached, burning, and Tony realized his ass felt bruised as he let himself rock further into Steve, lie against him and gasp into his mouth with each slow circle of his hips, as Steve himself ground slowly up into Tony, hand tugging, dragging through his hair with every slow roll of his hips, whining against Tony’s already wet lips. Steve’s mouth felt puffy, hot and swollen against his, and Tony sighed, letting out a rather low, whining noise of his own as he sagged against Steve. He felt tired, now, and his cock felt sensitive and wet, and Tony wanted to move his hips, to get friction against Steve’s stomach again, but it was exhausting to roll his hips, to push his belly up and forward to get the right angle, to rub himself against his hip and belly, and anyway, it wasn’t enough, just made him ache harder, longing for a hand on him, something other than the soft warmth of Steve’s skin against his wet, sticky cock, even as every touch to it, every breath of air, made him shiver.

He bit his lip as their lips dragged wetly apart, and Steve panted for breath, let his face rest against Steve’s shoulder, in the hollow of his neck, and tried to catch his own breath and not push his cock against Steve too insistently. He didn’t want to—to interrupt him in the aftershocks of his orgasm, or anything like that. Steve would take care of him; he could wait. And Steve was still riding out the last of his orgasm, grinding up into Tony’s ass and making him groan as his big cock jostled his slick, aching insides, the puffy rim of his hole, slid along his prostate and sent disconnected pleasure sparking off in strange arcing shivers through his body.

Eventually, Steve stilled, so Tony let himself stop moving with him, let himself settle over Steve and curve his knees in at Steve’s hips, thighs along his sides. Steve’s hand loosened in his hair, stopped its restless tugging, and turned to stroking, gentle knuckles running along the back of Tony’s neck before Steve massaged there with his palm, squeezed at the muscle there and ran his hand back up into Tony’s hair. Tony sighed, let his eyes flutter closed, as a straightforward, soft, warmly tingling pleasure spread down through him from that simple stroking motion. He loved it when Steve petted his hair.

“How was that?” he mumbled against Steve’s neck, lips against his pulse, after another moment. “Good enough ride for you, old man?”

Steve chuckled a little, still sounding dazed, blown out and a little wondering. “God, Tony,” he mumbled. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Tony almost laughed. “Only the little death, my angel,” he muttered against Steve's neck, grinning now.

“Yeah, well, that’s working out just fine,” Steve said. He still sounded dazed. His fingers dipped down, rubbed gently at the back of Tony’s neck. It felt wonderful, the slow, firm, gentle touch. “God, you still feel so good inside.”

“Welcome to stay,” Tony mumbled, sucking a wet kiss onto Steve’s jaw until he shivered under him. His cock throbbed at the thought, and he found himself pushing it against Steve’s hip, rubbing the needy, sticky tip against Steve’s warm, soft skin, desperate for sensation.

“Am I,” Steve said. His hand petted down Tony’s back, stroking and soft. “God, you rode me so hard I think I’m still seeing stars.”

“You are,” Tony said, unable to keep from smiling at that. He shifted himself up, braced himself behind Steve again, and leaned down for a kiss. “Welcome, I mean. And I'll do my best to make you see stars whenever you want, champ.”

Steve’s mouth was soft and wet and lingering against Tony’s, and he groaned as Tony’s movement must have jostled him inside. Tony could feel it, too, the slippery shift and drag of all that hot, heavy weight inside him, even if Steve had softened a little. He probably wouldn’t ever go entirely soft, not while he was inside of Tony; Tony had learned that one a long time ago. It was actually hella flattering. Steve had a superhuman refractory period, sure, but there was something viscerally, deeply satisfying about having a lover who you desired you so damn much he was flat out incapable of going entirely soft while he was inside you. Steve’s other hand came up, rubbed at Tony’s side, gently, before sliding down his belly and curving around Tony’s cock. 

Tony gasped, whimpered despite himself, curled over Steve as he panted. Steve’s hand was warm and huge and felt stupidly, incredibly good on his needy, throbbing cock as he gave it a long, slow tug, let his hand slide down to Tony’s tip, then back up. The touch made him spasm around Steve’s length, still inside, and Steve hissed a breath in through his nose, gave a little thrust up into Tony that had them both shuddering.

Steve’s hand on Tony stilled for a moment after that, but then, after a moment, he gave Tony a few strokes like that, long and slow and pulling, before he twisted his hand around the head, breathing unsteadily, deeply, and then started to rock his flat, hard palm against Tony’s tip, just how Tony liked it best, circling around and around. “You know, Tony,” he said, voice still low and rather breathy, and somehow Tony made a questioning sound, panting against Steve’s cheek and trying not to buck up too desperately into Steve’s hand so he had enough brain left over to listen. “Yeah, that’s it,” Steve muttered, pressing his hand against Tony’s tip a little harder, until Tony was moaning and rocking helplessly over him, moaning even more as that shifted Steve inside him, made him feel all the more aware of the wet slippery slide of his ass, the sensitivity of his rim and of everything inside there, shuddery and hot and probably swollen, if the intense way every little shift of Steve’s cock felt in there was any indication. “I don’t mind if you come before me,” Steve said.

“Huh?” Tony mumbled. It took him a second to catch up with what Steve was saying. “I—uh, uh, wow—I, I know that, stud.” He bit his lip against another moan as Steve rubbed at the sticky head of his cock with two fingers, then smoothed them down to circle gently under the glans, pressing his thumb down gently against Tony’s slit until he could feel himself leaking at the touch.

“You had your hand on yourself earlier,” Steve pointed out, voice low and husky, hoarse. “Would have been fine if you'd come then. Feels good to feel you come around me, all clenching and tight.”

“But then I’ll be done,” Tony pointed out. “And—and you wanted me to ride you, and, well, I don’t know.” He managed to shrug, despite how heavy his shoulders felt with his tired muscles, feeling the sheen of sweat across them tremble in the colder air, like a blanket thick over his skin. “I thought it’d be better to wait this time.”

“Sure, that makes perfect sense,” Steve murmured, thumb still teasing gently against Tony’s slit, making pleasure shiver through him, making it hard to think. “And I wouldn’t think anything of it, sweetheart, but you’re always holding off, you’re always waiting, you’re always thinking it’d be better to wait this time. And that’s fine. I just want you to know. I like feeling you clamp down around me, all tight when you come. I don’t mind at all if you do it before I have a chance to catch up.” 

“That’d be coming so—fast, though,” Tony said, caught off guard. Steve always came fast, and if Tony spilled before he could come, the first time, even—he liked to focus on Steve first. He didn’t want to come too fast, that’d be—sort of a disappointment. Wouldn’t it?

“You keep telling me it’s fine, no matter how fast I come,” Steve said, and his voice was still soft, but it was his stubborn voice now, his fairness voice. “The same goes for you, mister.” 

“Okay, okay,” Tony muttered under his breath.

“I mean it, Tony,” Steve said.

“Oh, I believe you,” Tony said, with a helpless little laugh as Steve’s fingers coaxed more pleasure from that sensitive place just under his cockhead. “O-oh.”

“Just so long as you know,” Steve said, and then he was smiling, and his thumb was rubbing in slow, sweetly coaxing circles around the head of Tony’s cock, and Tony was moaning, helplessly lifting his hips into his touch and making himself shudder and ache around Steve’s length, feeling Steve’s thick base spread him open again when he slid back down, and the wet slick trickle of come around him every time he did, and Steve bottomed out inside him. “I’d better see about you coming for me now, huh?”

“I-if you want,” Tony stuttered. He could hardly think. Steve was touching his cock just how he liked it best, and that wet, sensitive ache was so perfectly, sweetly sated by the broad warmth of his palm, his long, strong, sturdy fingers, the way Steve curled them around him, circled him with his palm, made his aching cock feel warm in his grasp. Steve could do whatever he liked with Tony, and Tony would love it, enjoy it, every second, and damn, if Steve wasn’t making him feel good right then.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Steve murmured, and it was all sweet and low, and he swayed in while he said it so that his warm, wet breath feathered along Tony’s jaw, at the sensitive hinge of it, just under his ear and the sensitive skin there, and Tony shuddered.

“Your hand on me,” Tony moaned, helpless against him, “Steve, sugar.”

“That’s a good start,” Steve said, and his hand slid down the underside of Tony’s shaft, sweet and easy, like a gift. His other arm slid around Tony’s back, and before Tony knew it, he was being lifted, hauled up like he wasn’t even as heavy as a sack of grain, pulled against Steve, then laid on his back on the sofa as Steve shifted, turned on his knees and then settled down over him. The movement made pleasure spark and ache and overwhelming sensation throb in his used hole, and Tony felt himself leaking Steve’s spunk, and moaned, mouth wet, feeling himself arch and writhe against the sofa as he was laid down. Steve’s arm came around, under his neck, against his head, and then Steve was pressing kisses over Tony’s cheeks, his jaw, down his neck, back up to his lips, his other hand returning to Tony’s cock to stroke it until Tony was panting, writhing. The pleasure was all through him, aching and intense, and he felt so full, Steve’s cock so big inside him, and God, was he thickening up again, hardening for real, still inside Tony’s swollen, fucked-out hole, damn, damn, that was hot. Tony could feel his legs slide out limply, quads aching and exhausted from overuse, totally useless to push or balance himself now, and one of them slipped off the sofa and tugged insistently at Tony’s hole, opening him around Steve until he was leaking, and Tony whined against Steve’s lips. “Shh,” Steve said, “I’ve gotcha,” deep and hoarse and oh, damn, Tony wondered how Tony felt around Steve deep inside, for him, but even as he was thinking it Steve reached down, cupped his hand around Tony’s thigh and pulled his leg back up onto the sofa, nestling it against his own leg, down along his thigh. Tony curled his toes against the fabric of his sock, feeling it very hot and sweaty now, and pushed the heel of it in against Steve’s leg, rubbing it up and down the hair there, so soft he could barely feel it under the fabric.

Steve gave a whole body shiver at that, jostling himself inside Tony, and then he was leaning down, pressing kisses over Tony’s face again. His hand slid down around Tony’s cock, and then Steve was fucking him, doing all the work himself this time, nice and slow, his hand moving up and down Tony’s cock until he was moaning. “Oh,” he mumbled, “oh, Steve, that’s so good, that feels so good, honey, baby, that’s perfect, God, your cock, you’re so big inside me, I feel so, so, that’s so good.” Tony was hardly even aware of what he was saying, his brain slow and stumbling with pleasure, but Steve’s hand felt so good on his cock, and he was fucking Tony so deep and perfect. This time, Steve was angling himself, and Tony realized it just a second before Steve took a deep, easy slide back, not quite pulling out, and pushed in again, and his cock slid just _perfectly_ along Tony’s prostate and Tony’s whole world lit up with pleasure.

He might have given a hoarse gasping strangled noise, he wasn’t sure, might have arched up, balls and stomach muscles and shoulders drawing tight until he was off the sofa entirely before he fell back down, he didn’t know, he just knew that it felt overwhelming, perfectly good in counterpoint to the hand Steve had moving on his cock, the way his thumb was petting, shoving at the place just under his cockhead with gentle movements and the rest of his fingers circled around Tony’s tip and teased him into aching, perfect, shivering pleasure on every stroke.

“That’s it,” Steve said hoarsely, and pushed Tony down on the sofa with his body, moving his hips with a constant, liquid, easy rhythm of thrusts right into Tony’s prostate, even as his lips moved back to Tony’s mouth. “You fucked me so good, Tony,” he murmured in between mouthing at Tony’s lower lip, biting it, sucking it swollen and tingling and tender, “rode me so perfect, now let me do the work and do the same for you.”

Tony could feel himself sweating, and he moaned. He wanted to warn Steve that he had no idea how close he was, no idea how long this would take, but he couldn’t seem to open his mouth for anything but helplessly breathless moans and Steve’s mouth was on his, kissing him sweet and hot and deep, anyway, and Steve’s hand felt so damn good on his cock as Steve fucked him, and finally Tony just let himself fall back against the sofa and feel it as Steve rocked into him and nailed his prostate and made his whole body shiver with bright hot pleasure like he’d flipped Tony’s every damn switch to on with each stroke. Tony’s hands fell back against the sofa, fell open, one of them digging in against the cushion just for something to hold onto as Steve lit up his body with pleasure with his deep, steady strokes and the constant rhythm of his hand.

Steve wasn’t rough, was almost never rough, but he fucked like he meant it, like he wanted Tony to remember it, driving into him deep and solid on every stroke so there was that thrusting rhythmic pressure against Tony’s prostate, not hard enough to leave him battered and bruised, but hard enough that Tony lit up with bright pleasure every time, every solid kiss of that hard blunt length along his sweet spot, hard enough that he knew his cock would have been leaking just from that even without Steve’s hand on it stroking him so perfectly. He was kissing deep and intense, too, serious and intense, almost solemn in its earnest, ardent sincerity, leaving Tony shivering under his mouth, his lips feeling tender and hot, stinging a little, sweetly, wet and puffy under Steve’s mouth, but it felt so good, Steve drinking down Tony’s moans so he didn’t sound too embarrassing. He hoped Steve was feeling good, too, inside him, but he couldn’t think about it much with the pleasure Steve was sending through every millimeter of his body. His skin felt hot and tingly, his face warm, and he was very aware of how sweaty his face and neck and shoulders were, but he didn’t care.

Steve’s mouth moved down over Tony’s neck, soft and gentle, wet and hot but not ever hard enough to leave bruises, and Tony moaned, tucked his saliva-slick mouth against Steve’s cheekbone and panted for breath, because Steve was always so careful about that, and it was so—so sweet, and he was so grateful, because he had to cover up enough bruises from Iron Man, he didn’t need hickeys to hide on top of it, and then Steve’s hand shifted, slid under his head to hold him steady, firm at his neck, stroking, petting through his hair, and Tony groaned as pleasure slid through him like warmth, like liquid, feeling his eyes slide closed, his head loll against Steve’s, against his hand.

His climax came on him slowly, but Tony was coming before he realized it, spasming around Steve, arching up and writhing, broken gasping noises that would have embarrassed him if he was thinking straight spilling from his lips as his come shot out, spilled over Steve’s hand. He was lost in it, the bright white hot pleasure, the warmth, the way Steve felt over him and around him, and Steve kept stroking him, and he was so damn grateful for that, too, because it meant he could ride it out, float on the pleasure for a long time as it rocked and shuddered its way through his body, leaving him so he felt weak and soft and floating, like floating on water that reflected a hundred different bright colors, or through space, if the vacuum hadn’t boiled his blood or any of that and he could breathe, and there wasn’t radiation, just stars that danced and tingled against his skin and lapped gently over him like waves (rather than balls of incandescent gas and nuclear fusion). It was one of the longest orgasms he’d had in a while, and when he finally managed to pry his eyes open again (they felt heavy-lidded, tired), Steve was gasping, too, but he smiled at him and shifted his wet hand off Tony’s cock before he had to beg for it, the pleasure turning into too much, then to a wincing, stinging, oversensitive burn just as Steve moved his fingers away, skimmed them gently up Tony’s chest, circling a finger through a sticky patch of come. 

“There you are,” he said, softly, sincerely, smiling, and Tony felt himself smile softly, dopily back.

“Not so sure about that,” he gasped out. “God, Steve. Wow, slugger.”

“That sounds good,” Steve said, and smiled a little more, a cheerful, happy kind of pleasure around the edges of that smile, behind it. He shifted over Tony, leaned down to press a gentle kiss into his mouth, and Tony moaned, opened his mouth for him, tilted his head up into it. It was a sweet, deep kiss, and Tony was trembling when Steve pulled away.

“Good isn’t, it, it doesn’t begin to cover it,” Tony panted.  Steve looked happy, he thought, slowly, and it left him warm, chest tight and eyes blinking as they watered and he tried to see straight, but content.  Steve looked so happy.  That Tony had come?  That Tony felt good?  With him, Tony thought.  Steve was looking like that at him. Steve was that happy with him.

Steve smiled even more at that. “That’s how I feel,” he said, and swiped up the come on his finger, laid it against Tony’s lips until he willingly opened his mouth, sucked it off, tasting his own bitter saltiness against his tongue. “You’re beautiful,” Steve murmured, and Tony felt his smile go crooked, self-conscious, his chest spasm with a kind of tight, self-conscious pleasure, touched and breathless and stupid, as his eyes slid away from Steve’s, off to the side. He bit his bottom lip, and Steve’s fingers slid gently down over his neck, played at his collarbone, stroked down his scarred chest.

“Go again?” Tony murmured, begged. He could feel Steve’s come still inside him, around his dick, buried inside, hard and hot and wet, and he would just bet Steve was aching to go again, to thrust that hard heavy needy heat inside him home and come deep inside Tony’s wet heat. He looked up at him, lifted one tired hand and slid it up over Steve’s arm, stroking gently at the pulse at his wrist, up over his forearm. “I know you want to,” he said. “You’re still inside me. I’m so wet and messy, Steve, and open for you.”

Steve bit his lip, flushing deeply at the thought, so deeply Tony could feel the warmth hot against him. “But, Tony,” he said. “You just finished. You’ll be oversensitive, you—you won’t come again, probably.”

“Nah, I won’t,” Tony confirmed. “Not a chance. I’m done, I’m fucked out. But you will. Come on, Steve, take me.”

Steve sucked on his bottom lip, let it pop free and sucked it back between his teeth to worry it again, once, twice, three times. Finally he smoothed a hand down over Tony’s clenching stomach and breathed, “Okay, Tony.”

Tony smiled, tilted his head back and gasped in hazy, overstimulated, aching pleasure when Steve slipped nearly out of him and then pushed back inside. Steve was gentle at first, gave a few slow, easy thrusts, then slid back, out of Tony entirely. Tony gave a noise of surprised loss, managed to lift his head, push himself up on his elbow on his third try, but then Steve just pushed his thumb into him, past Tony’s hot, swollen rim, against his swelling, loose, fucked-out inner muscles, and Tony heard the wet noise it made and moaned, felt himself go hot, intensely aware of that sound, of his softness down there, fucked loose and hot and ready and open. He let himself lie back, covered his face with both arms.

“Too sore?” Steve murmured, and Tony shook his head.

“No,” he said, and it came out scratchy, croaking and rough. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “Okay.” He must have taken a moment to line himself up, but then he was pressing into Tony again, hot and hard and going on and on, and Tony could hear his long, slow exhalation as he did, feel the tight muscles that relaxed against him, and sighed himself, in perfect pleasure even as his ass twinged with an overworked ache. Steve pressed into him slow and deep, until he was in him all the way, and then fucked him slow and easy and controlled, and Tony figured he was either teasing himself or working himself up or trying to take it easy on Tony’s loose, fucked-out hole and didn’t bother to dissuade him, taking in deep breaths with every push into him Steve made.

It started to hurt after a while, especially when Steve sped up, fucking into him hard again, but it was a good hurt. Still, his breaths took on a tight edge, and he knew Steve could hear it, because he breathed out an apology that Tony waved away with his fingers and sped up until he sighed and came with a full body shudder and a deep, sweet gasp, a puffed-out exhalation of air until he slumped forward and practically collapsed on Tony’s chest, his hips still grinding against Tony as he chased out the last of his orgasm, fucking into him loose and sloppy, smearing come deep inside of him again, all wet and warm. Tony was feeling blurry and slow and well-fucked and tired and his muscles felt slow and thick, but he lifted a hand and slid it slowly through Steve’s hair and blew out a contented sigh.

“That was fantastic,” he mumbled, and he felt Steve’s eyelashes flutter slowly against his chest, felt Steve’s smile against his skin.

“’s my line,” he mumbled. His lips pursed, brushed in a gentle kiss against Tony's skin, along one of his scars.  “Oh, Tony, sweetheart. You feel so good.”

“The plug was a, a good idea,” Tony told him, trying to think through the fog, and lifted one leg to slide it over Steve’s, holding him close with his body even as his eyes slip closed despite himself. “I think I might, uh, take a nap for a while, tiger.”

“You do that,” Steve said, hoarse and slurred, warm body shifting, pressing down into Tony as if he wanted contact over every inch of skin, shuddering with release, with aftershocks, and Tony put his other arm around him, too, so Steve wouldn’t shiver, pulled Steve closer into him. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

It was the last thing Tony heard before he slid into a soft, easy sleep, and it made him feel warm, with Steve’s words and the knowledge that Steve was still deep inside him. It felt good, much better than Tony would have imagined it would feel, and the best part was how sleepy and sated Steve felt over him. Like he'd really shown him a good time. Like he was really satisfied. Tony thought he might have fallen asleep smiling.


End file.
